


Dean Winchester, A Problem

by Heavenly_Stellar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Athlete Castiel, Awkwardness, Bullying, Castiel Saves The Day, Crushes, Fluff, Flustered Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Nerd Dean, One Shot, Pining Castiel, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Stellar/pseuds/Heavenly_Stellar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something about Dean Winchester that Castiel Novak couldn’t quite but his finger on. They were both seniors. They shared a few mandatory classes together. If Castiel happened to be alone and passed the other boy in the hall, he would say ‘hello’ or nod his head politely. Dean would give him a wonky smile in reply, always with that air of nervousness about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester, A Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Come say 'hey' on my[ tumblr ](http://heavenlystellar.tumblr.com/) . I accept prompts/requests for fics, so feel free to come chat.

There was something about Dean Winchester that Castiel Novak couldn’t quite but his finger on. They were both seniors. They shared a few mandatory classes together. If Castiel happened to be alone and passed the other boy in the hall, he would say ‘hello’ or nod his head politely. Dean would give him a wonky smile in reply, always with that air of nervousness about him.

If it weren’t for those bright green eyes— Castiel would have described Dean Winchester as somewhat plain. Another face who blended in the crowds of teenagers at school. And even though Dean was fairly tall, broad-shouldered and with big hands— the teen would walk with his head down and eyes downcast as he hugged his textbooks to his chest.

One time Dean had popped up in a conversation Castiel had with his teammates. They snickered and called Dean a _nerd_. For what reason, Castiel wasn’t too sure. He and his friends didn’t know Dean at all so there was no substantial evidence for it. Perhaps it was the large dark-framed glasses Dean constantly wore. Or the pop culture t-shirts. Maybe it was because Dean was a best friend to red-haired Charlie Bradbury, who was widely known for being a computer genius and faithful geek.

But really, it didn’t matter how Castiel’s friends thought of Dean. The truth was, Castiel couldn’t quite decide what it was about Dean. It was this indecisiveness and this unsettling feeling that he felt towards the other boy that infuriated Castiel.

It made him toss and turn in bed almost every night.

It was like an annoying itch in the back of his brain. And when he scratched at it, the seventeen-year-old was met with an assortment of feelings. Emotions that warred with one each other that varied from curiosity to confusion.

“C’mon Castiel!” A taunting voice came from the bleachers through a megaphone. “QUIT SLACKING OFF!”

Castiel was snapped out of his deep thoughts by the voice of the coach: the ruthless and quite possibly insane gym teacher. Who also happened to be Castiel’s older brother, Gabriel Novak. Castiel still had trouble coming to terms with the fact that Gabriel had a _real job_. Of course it had to be job that included the incessant tormenting and bullying of his little brother, didn’t it?

Castiel exerted himself as he drew closer to the finish line. He willed his legs to remain stable and not turn to jelly. The bright red track underneath him morphed into a white-checkered line. Castiel’s chest heaved. His heart stuttered into a jumble of beats and thumps. He bent over— hands rested on his knees— until his breathing returned to a regular rhythm.

“All right, little bro,” Gabriel waltzed over. Around his finger he twirled a bright pink lanyard with a whistle attached to it.

Castiel glared up at him. He straightened his back and stretched out his sore muscles. His whole body was buzzing with the leftover adrenaline.

“Was my run sufficient?” Castiel questioned his coach-slash-brother.

Gabriel pulled a thoughtful face, fiddled with his sweatband (Castiel had no idea why he wore it, he also thought he would be better off without knowing) and replied, “Good effort, I suppose. Maybe try a little more running and a little less duck waddling next time.”

He slapped Castiel’s rear end before he darted across the running track to bully the cross-country team. Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother’s eccentricities. He strode over to the bleachers to where he had left a pile of his gear. Castiel pulled a towel from his backpack and wrapped it around his shoulders. He took a long swig from his water bottle and finished it in a quick succession of gulps. The seventeen-year-old walked over to the changing rooms. His shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy with exhaustion from his training. But Castiel knew it was worth it. Athletics Day was coming up.

As soon as Castiel entered into the security of the locker room, he wrenched off his sweat-drenched shirt. He pulled his backpack to his front and stuffed his shirt unceremoniously in. It was just his luck that at that moment the Dean Winchester burst into the room. Castiel suddenly became very aware of two things he hadn’t given much thought to before:

1) There had been no one else but himself in the room and 2) he was wearing those ridiculously bright candy-red gym shorts.

Green eyes looked him up and down, then, seemed fixed on Castiel’s chest.

Oh.

That’s right. Castiel was also shirtless.

“Hi,” Dean waved and a tint of red rose to his cheeks.

“Hello,” Castiel looked at the other boy warily.

Dean swallowed hard before he practically squeaked out, “I’m Dean—” the teen cleared his throat, “I’m Dean Winchester.”

“Yes. I know,” Castiel slipped his arms through the straps of his pack without taking his eyes from Dean.

“You’re Castiel, right?” Dean's large, almost clumsy-looking, hands fidgeted.

Castiel held on to his bag’s straps, unsure of what else to do with his hands. “Yes. Yes, I am Castiel.”

“Um, can we talk?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.

Dean straightened and pushed his glasses further up his nose, confidence obviously boosted. “So, Charlie and I have been harassing Mr. Singer to update the school’s website…”

Castiel had to admit he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the school website, after all what did it matter, he had only ever seen the page maybe once or twice. But he took the extra effort to at least look like he was listening while really he took the opportunity how close Dean was to further think and assess the problem he had with him.

Habitually, Castiel’s head tilted to the side as he evaluated Dean’s short light brown hair flattened to one side and the brilliance of those green eyes even hidden behind glass. Castiel found himself liking the slight cleft in Dean’s chin and the freckles highlighted under the light of the changing rooms. The fullness and pinkness of those lips that mouthed his name…

“Castiel? Hey,” Dean clicked his fingers up close in Castiel’s face “you listening, Novak?”

Castiel blinked then replied, “Of course.”

“So you won’t mind if we interview you? Get a picture?” Dean quirked an eyebrow upwards.

“Anything you wish, Dean.” The words flew from his mouth before Dean’s question reached his brain.

Dean’s face lit up with a wide smile. “Well awesome, see you tomorrow then? A-At the uh-” he gestured vaguely behind him “-the library, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel’s brain grew blank as he sorted through the facts. He was meeting Dean… tomorrow… at the _school library._

He hadn’t known the school even _had_ a library.

But to be fair, Castiel usually stuck to the sporting areas of the school like chewing gum on the bottom of a classroom desk. Although he did find the academic side of school important and studied as much as he could, the thrill of physical endurance and strengthening was his calling. 

“See you, then,” Dean gave him one last flittering smile before turning to hurry out of the changing rooms.

“Dean—” Castiel reached out and grabbed a hold of Dean’s shoulder. The other boy’s foot caught on the edge of a bench leg and caused him to stumble. His arms pin-wheeled.

“Fuck!” Dean yelped as he headed to face-plant the ground of the locker room. 

Castiel’s arms immediately went round Dean, reflexes lightning fast. One looped around Dean’s waist and the other crossed diagonally over his chest to bracket him in. He yanked Dean backwards and the other boy’s back met the flesh of Castiel’s bare chest.

Dean froze.

Castiel let go.

“I’m okay,” Dean said after he managed to get his feet flat on the ground. "I'm okay." Castiel stared at the way a flush crawled its way up Dean’s neck and reached to the tips of his ears.

“I apologize. I wanted to ask you for your phone number,” Castiel said with his blue eyes locked with green eyes.  

“M-My phone?” Dean fiddled with the hem of his top. “Oh,” he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “sure, no problem.”

“Thank you.” Castiel pulled out his phone from his gym shorts and forced it into Dean’s hands. Dean thumbed in his contact details with ease. When he handed it back, Castiel couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in his hands. Castiel decided he _really_ liked Dean’s hands.

Castiel allowed a smile to cross his usual pensive expression, “Thank you, Dean.”

The other boy's mouth opened then shut, then opened once again before a mumble of “No worries,” came from his pretty mouth before he turned on his heel and hightailed it out of the changing room.

Castiel rubbed at his face and only noticed in that moment how heated in the cheeks he had become. He breathed out a curse. Uncertain emotions bubbled in his insides and he both wondered and dreaded about them. He had just had an encounter with Dean Winchester who seemed to constantly on his mind. 

Castiel entered a private one-man stall with a heavy sigh. He hung his backpack on the hook behind the door. He slipped out of his shoes and shorts then pulled on a pair of black jeans. Castiel had a sports jersey halfway over his head when he heard the heavy thuds of hurried footsteps.

Was it Dean? His heart skipped a beat.

Then a soft voice called his name. Okay, not Dean, whose voice was smooth and deep for the most part unless he was obviously embarrassed or nervous. 

“Castiel?”

“In here.” Castiel poked a sock-clad foot out underneath the stall door.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Castiel recognized the voice as Samandriel: his very good friend (although a year younger) and fellow sportsman. “I need your help.”

“Of course,” Castiel opened the stall door so he could talk face-to-face with his friend. He looked fairly hesitant as he chewed at his fingernails.

“What is it you need?” Castiel rested a foot on the bench— the one Dean had previously tripped on— and tied his shoe.

“You better hurry,” Samandriel shifted from one foot to the other, “In the toilets behind the bleachers I heard Gordon and Christian threaten to give this poor guy a swirly!" 

“What?” Castiel snapped to full attention and spun around to face Samandriel. “Who was it?” He demanded and surprised himself as a growl tagged along to his question.

Samandriel jumped at the noise, his watery blue eyes widened and he stammered, “I d-don’t know… Some guy wearing glasses, I think he’s in your grade.”

Castiel nodded, the pace of his heart quickened with fear with the knowledge that the victim could be no one else but Dean. No one truly deserved to be bullied. The dark-haired boy took a deep but shaky breath as he felt his stomach plummet down to his feet. 

“Go get Gabriel— I mean, Coach Novak.” Castiel commanded Samandriel and begun to exit the changing room. “Tell him to come to the toilets immediately.”

Samandriel nodded as he followed Castiel. “Sure. What about you?”  
  
“I’ll go there now myself and see what’s happening.” Castiel told his friend before he ran off in the direction of the toilets.

He heard it before he saw it.

“You gonna cry, Winchester? Huh?” Gordon Walker’s voice taunted.

There was a sharp gasp and the sound of water being retched out of lungs. “No— Please—” The voice broke off into a bout of hacking coughs.

“Baby gonna cry?” Christian Campbell crooned and pressed the flush lever. “Dunk him in again, Walker.”

Castiel hurried in and the scene he arrived at was one that made his stomach churn with disgust and fists clench with anger. The soles of Castiel’s shoes felt like they were glued to the tiles of the bathroom. At first, he watched on in shock. Gordon Walker: an intimidating and tall dark-skinned senior held a regrettably familiar-shaped body upside down with both his arms around their thighs. While Christian Campbell a brunette, dark-eyed junior clutched at the victim’s neck, holding his head down in the bowl of the toilet.

Castiel felt his chest tighten as he caught sight of the bright green ‘Star Trek’ t-shirt that rode up Dean Winchester’s chest. Both of them laughed at the gurgles that their prisoner made. Castiel was snapped out his reverie as the laughs echoed about in the bathroom.

“Walker! Campbell!” Castiel interrupted their wicked fun, “ _Put him down_. Now!”

The bullies froze and cautiously lifted Dean’s head out of the water. Castiel felt a trembling rage as Dean’s hands scrambled for purchase on the edge of the toilet bowl. Disorientated green eyes peered at him upside down. His glasses were lopsided with droplets of water forming like crystals on the surface of the lenses. The teen’s chest convulsed with heaving coughs. Dean’s face was bright red, a flicker of shame crossed over it as he recognised Castiel.

“Oh. It’s just you Novak,” Gordon sneered.

“Wanna have a go?” Christian offered.

Gordon jerked Dean away from the toilet as he presented him to Castiel. Like it was just a game, a fun pastime. Dean’s hands scrabbled over his torso as he hauled his saturated shirt back of the planes of his chest and stomach. He was rendered speechless even as his coughs subsided.

“Come on, Novak! Dunk the pipsqueak!” Gordon encouraged.

The victim’s eyes grew rounder. Castiel’s frown deepened. He was disgusted by the cause of the fear, the uncertainty in Dean’s face. Castiel’s gut twisted as he saw the obvious plea for help that plagued those eyes. No, Castiel would not stand for the hurt Dean was going through.

“ _Put. Him.”_ Castiel jabbed a finger at Dean then pointed to the tiles. “ _On. The. Ground._ Now.”

“Yeesh, Novak.” Christian chuckled humourlessly. “What’s got your panties in a twist? He’s just some smartass brat.”

“PUT HIM DOWN!”

The anger burst from Castiel like water from a broken dam. The three boys squashed in the toilet stall jumped at the sudden and quite frankly, rare show of ferocity. Dean’s eyes had brightened with gratitude. Christian lurched forward toward Castiel but at the same time:

“What in the flaming hell is this?” came a sharp cry.

Gabriel had _finally_ arrived.

Castiel was quick to explain, even though the scene itself was enough evidence to what had been going on. Soon enough Dean was flipped round the right way and released. Exhausted, Dean had collapsed on to the ground with an ‘oof’. Shortly afterwards, Gabriel had the two bullies by the ears and dragged them off to the principal’s office. Castiel grimaced at the sight of Dean slumped against the stall wall in a pool of toilet water.

“Are you all right?” Castiel asked and took few tentative steps toward the very quiet Dean.

He crouched and placed a hand on Dean’s wet shoulder. The poor boy trembled and refused to look into the face of his rescuer. Castiel pulled his hand away and reached for Dean’s glasses. He pulled them off and used the front of his shirt to dry the lenses. When he looked up, Dean’s eyes were on him and the air was pounded out of Castiel’s lungs. The green pools were even more radiant than he thought. Castiel held out the glasses to him, but Dean didn’t take them back.

“Dean?”

Dean seemed to snap out of whatever dark place he was in, and shifted on his place on the floor. Castiel watched with concern as the other boy’s eyes popped out of his head and he sharply turned his head to the tiled ground beneath him.

“Oh, God. I’m sitting in toilet fluid, that’s not sanitary _at all_ ,” Dean shuddered. “I need hand sanitizer like right now.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have any,” Castiel apologized.

Dean coughed hoarsely and quickly got to his feet. Castiel stood also. Dean’s body visibly and persistently trembled. His mouth was upturned in disgust. Castiel couldn’t help the twinge of amusement he felt as Dean looked at his hands then down at himself, obviously horrified.

“Fuck! So many _germs_ ,” Dean gagged.

Castiel was about to comfort the green-eyed teen when to his surprise Dean began to shuck off his soggy shirt. His mouth went dry as he stared blatantly at Dean’s naked torso. The dark-haired boy knew that he’d seen the other boy's bare torso before. But then the circumstances had been different—Dean had been being bullied and was forced to be upside down.

Now they were alone.

Closed in by the toilet stall and almost chest-to-chest.

Castiel fought the urge to do something that might make Dean uncomfortable. However that idea was abandoned when Dean struggled with his damp sleeves. The material obscured his face and his arms were pinned above his head. Castiel felt a coil of heat tighten in his lower abdomen and cursed his teenage hormones.

“Um,” Dean wriggled. “A little help?”

Castiel tried hard not to smile as he carefully hooked Dean’s glasses on to the hemline of his sports jersey and gently peeled Dean’s shirt off. Dean thanked him, sounding breathless, and grabbed his shirt from Castiel. Then he used the drier part of his top to scrub at his face.

“One thing I’m sure of is that tonight I’m going to cover ever inch of me in soap,” Dean grumbles.

That mental image _so did not_ just pop into Castiel’s head right then. Castiel’s mind scrambled for a distraction or a change of subject and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Why did they do that to you?” Castiel asked. Then regretted it as soon as Dean’s face was plastered with an expressionless mask.

“None of your business,” Dean snapped, then he crowded into Castiel’s personal space and viciously snatched his glasses from where they hung at the blue-eyed boy’s jersey’s neckline. Castiel flinched as if he had been slapped and stared abashedly down at his shoes. Dean let out a sigh, which made Castiel glance at him hesitantly. He was relieved to see that Dean’s hard expression had softened marginally.

“I said somethin’ that probably shouldn’t have to Christian,” Dean explained. “Didn’t know Gordon was around and… well, toilet-dunking-time.”

Castiel nodded. Gordon had been a high school dropout, and then returned, a few years older than the rest of them. He had a size and strength advantage over the rest of the grade. Castiel had found it quite frustrating to compete against the older person during sports.

“I’m glad I came when I did,” Castiel said.

Dean played with the arms of his glasses for a little longer, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Thank you,” he said softly. Than slipped the glasses back on his face. “I had it under control, anyways.”

He wrung out his shirt, some liquid escaped from it and reluctantly put it back on.

“Did they do anything else to hurt you?” Castiel asked, his hand reached up to touch Dean’s face and check for any tenderness that may result in a bruise.

Dean shuffled away and his back connected with the stall wall, making it tremble. The green-eyed boy scratched the back of his neck, awkwardness plain as the nose on his face. Castiel felt a pang of hurt, but he understood. After all they barely knew each other.

“I can handle them,” Dean said eventually.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow up at that, “Uh-huh,” he replied slyly.

Castiel felt jittery butterflies explode in his stomach as Dean launched into a fit of laughter and then said, “Yeah, you should’ve seen what I could’ve done to them.”

“I’m sorry that I intervened then,” Castiel replied, smiling slightly.

Dean nodded in agreement. “Real shame there. You missed witnessing my ninja skills.”

Castiel let out a hum of amusement. “Indeed.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort when the speaker system crackled to life and a cool voice filled the room.

“ _Dean Winchester, please report to the principal’s office. Dean Winchester._ ’

Dean heaved out a sigh. He clapped Castiel on the shoulder before he stepped out the toilet stall. “Thanks again, Cas.”

Castiel smiled brightly at the nickname that only his closest friends and a few family members used. He was glad that Dean would be the one to join that list.

“Any time, Dean,” Castiel told him.

Dean licked his lips and in a rush he said, “Call me, all right?”

The green-eyed boy dashed from the bathroom abruptly afterwards, but it was not before Castiel saw the pink blush setting Dean’s cheekbones ablaze. He walked from the bathrooms and despite that bad that had progressed there, a spring in his step was present as well as a warm and pleasant feeling inside of him. Dean had not been what Castiel had assumed. Although it was clear the other teen was passionate about things typically nerd-related, it wasn’t a bad thing like what Castiel’s friends had made it out to be.

Maybe this _thing_ he felt about Dean—though it kept him up at night—wasn’t a problem at all. _Maybe_ , Castiel Novak thought with increasing conviction, _Dean Winchester was a blessing._

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you guys thought! Thank you.


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